Unfair
by Niffon-Faol
Summary: It's the anniversary of one love story's death, and the birth of another. How can Merlin bear to watch as Arthur claims the very thing he had taken from Merlin for his own? Merlin/Freya, Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Gwen and Arthur friendship. CHAPTER FIVE UP!
1. Chapter 1

It was unfair.

Merlin was used to unfairness in his life, to injustice-why did _he_ have to keep a huge secret, and the other children didn't have to fear saying even the smallest of sentences in case it condemned them to death? Why did _he_ get stared at, and yelled at, and cast out? Why did the village boys gang up on _him?_ Why did he have a prat for a master? Why did his father have to die? Why, why, why?

But one of the worst injustices was watching his master, his best friend, his destiny kill the only woman he'd ever loved...and then watch as he claimed his own love from Gwen.

Merlin was happy for them-so, so happy that they'd finally gotten this chance-but...it was just another wrong against him. Just another sick, twisted punishment that got thrown his way, for a reason he could not fathom.

And just to top it off, _just to be spiteful, _Fate decided to coincide the day of Arthur's proposal to Gwen with the anniversary of Freya's death.

Normally, Merlin would suck it up and hide behind a smile, just like usual, hoping nobody saw the depths of his pain. He would have pushed his anguish down, down, down into the depths of his heart and try (unsuccessfully) to ignore it, had it been for one thing.

He was full.

He was full to the brim with pain and sadness and he just wanted to slink off to Freya's lake, to bury his face in his hands and let go, to let go of Will's death and Balinor's death and Freya's death and life's injustice and his loneliness, his constant charade.

Lancelot knew, but really, it was a topic they breached as little as possible. After all, being overheard was a huge risk.

But Arthur had other plans.

"Merlin!" Arthur had greeted that morning, sounding odd. Merlin didn't notice it, too busy trying to hide his pain, trying not to let tears fall.

"You're already up!" he exclaimed, trying to sound surprised and cheery. It fell flat.

Fortunately, Arthur was too preoccupied to notice.

"Yes," he agreed absentmindedly, pacing nervously. Then, suddenly, he swiveled on his heel to face Merlin and asked, "How do I look?"

Merlin did a double take, surprise temporarily overriding his grief. "I'm sorry?"

"How do I look?" repeated Arthur, eyes wide with apprehension.

His hair was shining and neat, his tunic clean and pressed, and his boots polished to a shine. All in all, he looked formal.

Nervousness was a trait Merlin had hardly ever seen in Arthur, except when Gwen was involved, so Merlin automatically jumped to the correct conclusion.

"If you're asking if Gwen will like it, you look fine," he reassured the jumpy Prince, feeling the knife in his chest twist as he thought of Arthur's luck with Lady Love.

"Hmm," was the only reply he got, before the prince went back to pacing. Merlin began making the bed, still struggling with his emotion. He began fluffing a tasseled pillow.

"I'm going to propose to her," Arthur burst out suddenly, stopping mid-stride as he gazed at Merlin with anxious blue eyes.

Merlin dropped the pillow. "What? Really?" His mind spun and his heart lurched.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, still looking at Merlin with unblinking eyes.

"Now?" he asked, still incredulous.

"Yes," repeated the Prince. "Well, in an hour or so."

Merlin flinched slightly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking her into the forest," Arthur babbled, wringing his hands. "A nice little clearing I found, next to beautiful lake, with mountains in the distance..."

Merlin's breath hitched. _Nonononononono..._

"I'd like you to come," continued Arthur, oblivious, as always, to Merlin's turmoil.

The words to cover up his objections stuck in Merlin's throat. Instead, he quickly blurted out, "I know a better place."

Smarmy comebacks completely abandoned in this conversation, Arthur leant forward, interested. "Really?"

"Yeah," Merlin stuttered, "G-Gwen really likes f-flowers. I think you should go s-somewhere with lots of...daisies, and stuff. She loves those."

Arthur nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Merlin," he said earnestly, surprising his manservant, before striding out the door.

Merlin stared after him for a moment, before letting out a shaky breath, relieved that he had deterred Arthur from using Freya's lake as a spot to propose to Gwen to...on the anniversary of her death. That would have just been...unbearable.

He hurriedly finished up the chores, freed from dressing, bathing and feeding Arthur this morning. It only took him a half hour or so, and he strode from Arthur's chambers desperately hoping nobody would cross his path or stop him as he headed for Freya's lake.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Wow.**

**Just, wow.**

**I am **_**blown away**_** by the reception of this fic. Truly. I think my Inbox busted itself open somewhere. So many alerts, reviews and favorites **_**already?**_** You guys are epical. No other words for it.**

**I'll try to respond to reviews individually, when I have time (I'm posting this on a super-time-budget).**

**Due to the positive reception, I've posted an extra chapter. I have no idea when I'll be able to upload the next one, but I had to write this one after reading all the reviews. You guys just push me to write more and more! **

_This is it,_ thought Arthur as nerves simultaneously set his stomach alight and let it float through his body. _I'm going to ask Gwen to marry me._

The fact that he felt more nervous and fearful of this than he ever did before riding out to impossible odds didn't really surprise him-Guinevere always made him feel that way: terrified of offending her, of doing wrong.

Well, not _always_, he was ashamed to admit. Before Merlin she'd been just another servant, not worthy of his attentions.

He supposed he had that idiot to thank for opening his eyes to true equality, and in turn to the purity and warmth that was Gwen.

He spotted his-hopefully-bride-to-be just ahead browsing the market stalls in her new noble finery, provided for by Arthur and her new court status as Lady.

He hurried up to her, the apprehension increasing one-hundred fold. Her face lit up as she caught sight of him, and he opened his mouth to ask her out on a picnic-

"Arthur!" she cried, unknowingly cutting him off. "Come here, I need to talk to you about something." She waved to an unoccupied nook in the brickwork and stalls, mostly secluded and closed off.

He snapped his mouth shut, half relieved and half disappointed, before following.

"Have you seen Merlin?" she hissed worriedly, and Arthur had to admit that _wasn't _what he'd been hoping she'd say.

"...yes?" he half-answered, half-asked, impatient to complete his plans.

"Then you've noticed how strange he's been asking?" She didn't even give time for him to reply _'no, not really, doesn't he always act strange, and can you marry me?' _before plowing on. "He's all mopey and sad and depressed, and he's _never_ like that. He's always happy and cheery."

Arthur frowned. "Really? He's sad?"

Gwen glared at him disapprovingly, and he wilted under her gaze, not knowing why what he said was so bad but feeling ashamed anyways.

"Yes!" she hissed, annoyed. "He's _your_ servant, he's only with _you_ at all times. Not only that, he's your _best friend_, and don't you dare tell me he's not!"

Arthur conveniently ignored this last sentence. "Well, what do you propose we do about it? Merlin will be Merlin. He probably just saw a chicken get killed or something."

Gwen glared even harder at him and he gulped, fully aware she looked like she could run him through right now. "For your sake, I will ignore that, or I may be tempted to knock some sense into you, or at the very least some heart," she hissed.

Arthur nodded, slightly hurt. Usually Gwen wasn't this violent, she was far too complacent and kind, but apparently he'd crossed a line there...

"Now come on," she said, grabbing hold of his wrist and marching him out of the alley. "Let's go find him."

Arthur could only wonder in despair how this had happened. It was Merlin's fault, he decided, and it seemed a pretty good answer for just about everything bad in his life.

Blame Merlin, he thought exasperatedly as Gwen tugged him through the city, asking after the clumsy idiot's trail and following it like a beautiful bloodhound.

* * *

><p>Merlin was tired. So very, very tired.<p>

All he felt was a bone-numbing weariness as he plodded down an overgrown path. Dully he noted some slashed branches and trampled undergrowth, but tried to ignore the signs of Arthur's questing for a proposal spot. He had enough of his own worries.

Usually he'd love to be there when his two friends, yes, as much as he (pseudo) hated to admit it, Arthur was a _friend,_ planned to spend the rest of their life together.

But today, it didn't seem like an appealing prospect.

At all.

His eyes were still bone-dry, the grief curled up into a tight knot inside of himself. He knew only sharing his pain could truly drain the poison from within himself, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't appear weak to Gaius or Lancelot—they were counting on him for protection. And how would he go about saying it to Arthur? _I need a hug because you caused my best friend to sacrifice himself for you, and killed my girlfriend, and had to hide my sadness when my father died?_

Not likely.

And all his other friends, Gwaine and Gwen and even Percival, whom he'd taken quite a shine to…he just couldn't. That was the thing with grief, you _know_ the only way out is to let go, but it's like a parasite, it shoves you down, down, down.

And that was all he could feel as he trudged through the undergrowth towards the lake, not even bothering to fend off the thorns and brambles.

A terrible, heavy weight, and a slow sinking feeling.

Down, down, down.

**AN Part Two: Okay, did you guys hate how much Arthur POV I put in there? Did I go overboard on my personal favorite version of Gwen (angry at Arthur for being such a prat to Merlin)? Love it? Hate it? Originally this was going to be a 100% Arthur POV, but I threw in a little Merlin at the end just to see if my angsty description skills were up to their usual miserable par.**

**Niffy, signing off!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am so sorry.**

**So very, very sorry.**

**I told you that it would be a while until I updated again, but even I didn't expect _this_ long. Let's just say it's the combination of filming a TV ad (soon to be aired, by the way!), a new and very sweet boyfriend, and a Friday evening that took all weekend to sleep off.**

**You know, I just read over that and realized that that passage could totally describe someone ten years older than I am. I'm not even in High School.**

**_Any_ways, back on topic: I know, I suck. I'm a terrible person and deserve to die. Now I see why all these authors find it so hard to update. Real Life is…occupying.**

**So: Prepare for Chapter Three of _Unfair!_**

Well, this was rather worrying.

Okay, inside Arthur was panicking, but no need to let Guinevere see that.

They hadn't even traveled for five minutes on the road outside the castle when Gwen had cried out, distressed, and Arthur had rushed to her side.

Her expression as she looked up at him would haunt him forever: terrified and vengeful and grave, all at once.

"He'd never leave that behind," she whispered, holding Merlin's neckerchief.

Hence, the way Arthur was currently frantically searching for any sign of the wayward idiot, scanning the underbrush. His trails that he'd cut when searching for a proposal spot were all he could see, nothing new or fresh.

Gwen was remaining stoic, crouching among the leaves and scanning the undergrowth with rather untrained eyes.

But wait. Arthur was sure the trails he cut weren't _that_ recent, certainly not new enough to still have bent grass…

"Tricky little weasel!" he burst out as realization hit him. Guinevere's head snapped up, hope shining in her face.

"Whoever took Merlin used this trail so it looked like only one," Arthur explained, eyes shining, ready to follow his new lead.

Hope listed in his chest. They could find Merlin—no, they _would_ find Merlin.

Whatever the cost.

The water sparkled with an ethereal quality as Merlin stumbled closer, glinting through the waving branches. Hauntingly beautiful.

Will was here. And Balinor. And Freya. The Lake of Avalon. The lake of the dead. The lake of souls.

His lake of grief.

And he was drowning.

Merlin broke through the edge of the forest, remembering with a gut-clenching dread binging Freya onto this very beach as she died in his arms.

He could almost see her now, floating over the water's edge, extending a hand as she drifted ever nearer, eyes shining with hope and joy as she glided effortlessly over the water…

…no, wait, he _could_ see her.

"This is it," he croaked, "I've finally gone mad."

One slender foot touched sand, and then another.

"No you haven't, Merlin," said Freya.

**A/N: Ooooh, cliffie. I'm such a bad person, I know. Now, I don't know when I can update again, but I'll try and aim for before the end of the month. (I might fail dismally.)**

**Signing off, **

**~Niffon-Faol**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: OK. There is simply no excuse, I suppose. I've had a rough time of it lately and I finally just kicked myself into action with this because you guys really wanted me to continue ^^ so for you guys, my awesome amazing reviewers:**

Fueled by desperation, Arthur and Gwen sprinted through the undergrowth, leaves rustling and slapping eachother in their wake. Gwen, whose strength mostly came from her arms washing and doing other such chores, was tiring quickly but refused to slow her pace. There were more pressing matters, she reasoned, then her burning legs and painfully throbbing ribcage.

Arthur had abandoned all pretenses of not caring for Merlin as much as he did. Merlin was as good as his brother and he had no intentions of letting some…something steal him away. That had happened with far too many people in his life.

Far too many.

Somehow that thought spurred him into even faster action, and he fairly flew over the ground, the earth seemingly sliding under his feet to help him on his way.

He could see something ahead.

"There's no possible way this is happening," Merlin protested shakily. "This is some kind of trick. Morgana, maybe."

But the softness in Freya's eyes as she regarded him did not waver, and Merlin could never really associate her with anything evil anyways.

"I'm sorry you think that, Merlin."

"I…don't even care if it's a trick," Merlin admitted.

He stood up, and Freya let out a joyous little laugh, and he pulled her into his arms so quickly and fiercely he was only a brown, red and blue blur, hugging her against his chest and crying.

He had her back. _He had her back._

Trick or no trick, here she was in his arms and he could just scream is joy to the world.

So he did.

Arthur was nearing the end of the trail, he could feel it with his hunter's instinct. Gwen's harsh and ragged gasps behind him slowed as they both calmed their pace, the undergrowth thinning out. The soil turned less dusty and more gritty, pebbly, sandy, crunching underfoot.

Then it all happened at the same time.

He heard a scream of sheer joy, he knew it was Merlin, his mind began to churn-

-he broke out of the trees-

-he slowed to a stop-

-Gwen almost slammed into him-

-and Merlin dropped to the ground, by the feet of a dark-haired girl. She was wearing a dress he recognized as Morgana's, and her face looked vaguely familiar.

She looked up, startled, and Arthur drew his sword, panting, preparing to charge her.

He blinked, and could've sworn the girl's eyes flashed gold.

Then they were gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Freya was panicking.

Being in the Lake, it was like a deep, restful slumber, alive but unaware. Merlin called upon her once, to repay a debt. That call transcended the Lake's hold, and for a few precious minutes she observed him from beneath the skin of the water, unable to fully breach it but drinking in the sight of him and the feel of him as he took the sword from her.

Then she was pulled back down again by the dizzying darkness.

Now she was thrust into a confusing, bright, noisy world were the Prince of Camelot himself, and the very man that killed her, was chasing her and Merlin.

She had to keep Merlin safe from that man. That was all she knew for certain, but she clung to the fact stubbornly, unrelentingly, in the face of this impossible new world.

One minute, she'd been safe in his arms. Nothing could touch them, they were Merlin and Freya, he was Emrys, she was safe with him.

The next, he'd sagged into her shaking grasp, head lolling to the side. She heard Arthur break through the forest, followed by some girl. She didn't mean to, the teleportation spell just happened, but she was thankful for it.

And now Merlin was just lying there, on a makeshift bed she had crafted for him out of dry leaves and grasses. His breathing was slow and labored, and every breath was shallower than the last.

_And she didn't know why._

A crystalline tear fell from above onto Merlin's alabaster cheek.

Arthur fell to the ground in disbelief.

"What?" he gasped.

Gwen stared, still breathing heavily.

"What?" he repeated.

"That was Morgana's old dress," Gwen muttered off-hand. "I wondered where it went..."

"...what? We were so close!" Arthur fumed, ignoring Gwen. "That sorceress just took him!" His eyes were lit with rage. "I swear when I find hill she will not know the light of day any longer."

"She must have hurt him," Gwen agreed, "she was holding him and he just kind of crumpled."

Arthur shivered. As a young boy he'd learned all too well the conniving tricks court women could come up with: poison in a lovingly prepared drink, a couple's caress made deadly by a hidden knife. Seduction and death went hand in hand in Camelot's nest of nobles. He'd found himself on the receiving end of many such dangers before.

"We can't give up on him," Arthur murmured quietly.

"Never," agreed Gwen in a stronger tone.

Without even looking at each other, both gazes still fixed at the empty spot where two people stood not a minute ago, they announced the same conclusion at the same time.

"Gwaine."


End file.
